


Succor (with whiplash)

by midgetnazgul



Series: The Gordian Knot [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Everybody Tops, Fingerfucking, Masturbation, Multi, No Strings Attached, Or Is It?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Chapter 14, Voyeurism, at least for now, bear with me, brief instance of knifeplay, co-starring lesser bitches Din Djarin and Boba Fett, mostly Din/Fennec but Boba is here to have a nice time, nary a bottom to be found here, not quite 'rough sex' but it's not exactly uwu either, pre-chapter 15, queen bitch Fennec Shand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgetnazgul/pseuds/midgetnazgul
Summary: The first time, it's a distraction.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Fennec Shand
Series: The Gordian Knot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189388
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Succor (with whiplash)

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to my lifelong friend and keeper of my very first OC-self-insert Star Wars fanfiction, Sam. I finally did it babe, god help me.

In a string of bad days – weeks, really – this was easily the worst. Ship: gone. Kid: gone. Would’ve been stuck on the emptiest fucking rock in the Galactic Core if not for the unexpected benevolence of two professional murderers. Din had lived on the edge enough times throughout his life to know the shock was still dulling the real feelings – fear, anger, anxiety – and it would continue to for at least the next handful of immediate hours, perhaps even a cycle or two, depending on how long he could defer it through planning his next move and any other distraction he could conjure. He could sense those emotions disturbing some indescribable but remote space within him, like watching water boil underneath glass. Tactical focus would see him through, just as it always had.

Probably.

Fennec strode past where he sat on the navigation deck, though it only collected the barest hint of his attention. They’d lifted off from Tython some time ago, but it would be days even on the most direct hyperspace routes to get back out to the Rim and ultimately Nevarro to speak with Cara Dune. _Days_ of aching, suddenly-unfamiliar silence, but none of the solitude to which he was accustomed. The help was welcome enough; truth be told, however, the last thing Din wanted was _unvetted_ assistance. Fett’s rationale to offer help wasn’t the most logical one he’d ever come across (especially considering just _who_ Fett and Fennec were), and everybody in the galaxy had an ulterior motive. One good collaborative firefight killing Imps didn’t overcome _that_ much. Anybody with half a heart and brain would take a potshot at Imps if the opportunity presented itself.

...And yet, Fett seemed for all the world to be as genuine and relatively selfless as it seemed. That felt oddly unfair; why should Din get that kind of blessing now? Why didn’t he have that kind of providence yesterday? Weeks ago, when the Crest was almost completely destroyed and he had nearly frozen to death? Months ago, when some Imp nutjob decided he had to have _this one baby_ over every other damn creature in the galaxy? Any other point in the thousands of miniature crises he’d managed? Did he really deserve so little, so late? The sense of failure around needing help at all only compounded the regret. _Everything_ had slipped through his fingers, after so much time, effort, and other lives lost. Was he living up to _any_ damned standard, much less the Mandalorian – or rather, _his_ quote-unquote Mandalorian, or fucking Bo-Katan’s Mandalorian, or… _shit._

Ah, there. Frustration, rapidly bubbling to the surface. Too soon; that wouldn’t do. Defer, defer, and as fast as fucking possible. Fennec’s footfalls roused his attention – she had crossed the room to rustle through who-knows-what in the cargo netting, so her back was to him. He let his gaze follow the taper of her long, elaborate braid down. The kama covered the best possible view of her ass, but it did form-fit to her waist, and those legs were worth a long walk across the Dune Sea for. Granted… he _had_ literally walked across the Dune Sea for Fennec and her legs before. Different reasons, whatever. But what the hell, right? He wasn’t exactly having a banner day; surely a minute or two of silent, remote appreciation wouldn’t kill him. The helmet provided perfect--

“Leering’s pretty unseemly,” Fennec suddenly spoke, tone flat as a board.

Shit.

Fennec pivoted to regard Din with an unimpressed stare and crossed her arms. “All of you think a helmet gives you subtlety. It doesn’t.”

Din shifted anxiously in his seat and checked himself. This woman had saved his life today. However low he’d been put by his current circumstances, he needed to be better than _this..._ especially considering he was only one semi-positive interaction removed from the time he’d taken one of her high-powered blaster bolts directly to the chest.

“I apologize. I don’t…there’s no excuse,” he replied with a sigh. Of everything on the long list of shit he was tired of, _himself_ was soaring its way up to the top. “It won’t happen again.”

Fennec’s eyelids fluttered in surprise, and at length, her arms slid away back down to her sides. “That sounds...sincere.”

Din dipped his head in a chastened little bow. It was understandable that she might not believe him at first blush, and she had likely anticipated he’d dodge confrontation and accountability. “I am.”

Fennec recovered most of her usual detachment, but her eyes cast to the side in consideration. Her mouth twisted a bit as part of the effort, but it soon smoothed back out as she seemed to come to an agreement with herself. Her stare snapped back to Din so aggressively, he had to school his bodily fight-or-flight response.

“I _did_ save your ass today.”

“Yes.”

“Today being...” Fennec’s head bobbed back and forth in mocking thought, “...probably not a great one for you, historically speaking.”

“I’ve had worse. I’m better than that.”

“Ooh, good answer. I think I even believe it.” Fennec had been careful to lay her characteristic sarcasm over the top, but it didn’t fool Din – she _did_ appreciate his owning up. He’d skirted death yet again today. Lucky him. He was so wrapped up in his relief at scrambling out from under disaster that he didn’t notice the sly smirk now cutting Fennec’s face. “Tell me, then: does the helmet stay on? Y’know. _During._ ”

Din stilled to the nerve. His mind turned as wide and blank as moonless sky.

“Ah-ah,” Fennec continued in sing-song. “I’ve earned this one on _your_ credit.”

Fair – begrudgingly so. Din composed himself, head tilting a bit as he very carefully weighed his response.

“You haven’t seen me take it off for anything else,” he finally answered. Technically. Fennec’s amused smile grew.

“Oh, an indirect answer; _adorable_. I have to admit, I’d come to the conclusion you were totally...” Fennec’s eyes danced around, delightedly searching for the optimal bit of euphemism, “... _unmoveable_. It’s refreshing to see proof that anything other than stoic brooding goes on under there.”

He wasn’t terribly happy about being the butt of a joke, but he’d earned it. Still, he didn’t necessarily have to bother replying to her emasculating recompense either.

Fennec absorbed his silence with a soft giggle and shook her head. _Sullen_ was a good word for Mando’s attitude at the moment, hunched and irritated where he sat. Impudent, too – he might’ve been put in his place, but that didn’t mean it was _second_ to anybody, either. Lots of spine. She liked that, even as she enjoyed being the one pushing him around. And she did in fact like attention too: when it was on _her_ terms.

“It’s a compliment, really. You’ve been different from the start, and I appreciate that it extends to remembering yourself when you think with your wrong head first.”

Din would have been put back a bit by the crude rhetoric alone, but that was nothing compared to how quickly the curve was ironed out of his spine as Fennec sidled up to confidently straddle him and drop herself in his lap. She planted her hands on her thighs, elbows pointed out wide and gaze unflinching in assessment of him. She spoke conversationally, though her continued wicked smile described her less-than-wholesome enjoyment.

“You know perfectly well how hard I can kick your ass if I knew you were putting up a front – and I would, if you tried. But it’s not just that lying would be a wasted effort – you’re genuinely not inclined to make excuses. You’ll give a shit about respect for its own sake and risk the ass-kicking all the same.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Din had lost track of where his hands were, but he wasn’t dead, so he wasn’t about to even suggest moving a millimeter out of position and run the risk.

Fennec leant in close – so close, her nose nearly touched Mando’s visor. All she could find was the barest hint of wide circles just past the tint. Darker, smaller circles suggestive of pupils twitched dimly this way and that in the dark to reveal a bewildered, shifting gaze. She retreated, unsatisfied but willing to let her curiosity go. “Change your mind?”

“What?”

“You were so keen a moment ago. Here I am,” she explained, spreading her arms wide in sarcastic, grandiose introduction.

A muted, tinny _uhhh_ was all Din could reply with. Was this a trick, somehow? Or was she simply mocking him?

Fennec sat back again to reconsider her approach. Too much teasing – that was a little disappointing, but he _would_ be a little confused by such a seemingly random turnabout. On top of that, he was amusingly resolute in behaving himself despite what felt to her like the most obvious green light in the galaxy. She sighed.

"Listen. Men are universally cads.”

“...Yeah,” Din eventually conceded, though caution weighed on his voice.

“So I only fuck the ones big enough to apologize for it.”

Despite himself, Din choked out a bleat of laughter. Fennec broke out in a new smile; Din noted that it was wider and more genuine than the sassy and/or conniving smirks he’d seen before. That was disarming enough to ease his concern – and realize that she was serious about...this thing she had chosen to do, straddling him on the navigation deck. _Oh_. Din never would have put himself on any theoretical (and likely _very_ short) list of Things Fennec Shand Likes, but...well. If she was offering. He spread his hands wide to hold Fennec’s waist and slid them down to her ass.

“I didn’t expect your question about the helmet to be so prescient.”

“Oh, no, that’s just idle curiosity. And to get back at you for being a bastard.”

“ _S_ _ure,_ ” Din replied sarcastically. “You’re not the first to search for any excuse.”

“Maybe,” Fennec continued as she slid herself further up Mando’s lap and draped her hands around the back of his neck, “but the thing is: I don’t need your face to see and appreciate that shoulder-to-waist ratio,” she finished at a low hum. Her fingers teased their way up under the back of the helmet to brush at his nape. She was close enough to feel his chest briefly press against hers for his resulting deep breath and reveled in it. “I can’t speak for other women, though. I’m a bit of an outlier.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to convince people it doesn’t matter,” Din said, and he used the improved angle Fennec now sat at to get a good squeeze. It earned a pleased little hip wiggle out of her – and just close enough to the fly of Din’s bodysuit to make it count for him, too.

“ _People_ , hm? Inclusive word choice,” Fennec said, and to punctuate her incisiveness, reached up to cup the jawline of his helmet and draw a gentle fingernail along the single patch of open skin Din could offer: the underside of his chin. Din couldn’t help the responding full-body shudder or the impulse to shift and part his thighs wider, but he _did_ manage to school the moan threatening to bubble up from his throat; Fennec wasn’t going to win that much that easily. Low chuckling slid out from behind Fennec’s teeth anyway.

“Yeah. People,” Din finally replied with a laden sigh. He swept his hands up Fennec’s back and contented himself with framing her breasts. Each thumb passed once over black cotton where her nipples would be, then again, harder, once barely-discernible peaks revealed themselves. That alone got some reaction out of her with a little bit of arching, but a more aggressive squeeze-and-pinch earned a soft, stressed exhale.

“Interesting. But not as interesting as me in your lap,” Fennec said, the words sharp but the breath underneath them coming faster and rounder than they should. She hooked a finger over the edge of the cowl on Mando’s suit and tugged it down just far enough so draw her lower lip and the very point of her tongue along the freshly-naked skin. Stubble; very good. Shame she wouldn’t be able to enjoy more of it.

“I guess,” Din tried, but he couldn’t really sell the flat affect when there was so much vocal fry underneath it. He kept his left hand where it was, but his right hand felt its way down her torso, to the sash that hid her cybernetics, and drew a line with his thumb from there until he found his mark. Fennec twitched heavily against him for the surprise and his firm approach. He formed half a thought to ease up, but Fennec recovered and canted her hips back into his touch.

“No, no disaffection, that’s boring. You’re dangerously close to being _fun_ ,” she said, wickedness dripping from each word.

“I like fun,” a rugged voice called down over sudden, thumping footfalls on the rungs of a ladder. Din went rigid, hands fixed in the compromised (and now ludicrous) places he had put them. Fennec, meanwhile, merely rolled her eyes and gave a long sigh.

“So much for assuming you’d be up there for a while fiddling around.”

“Ooh, no,” Boba replied smoothly. “I’m rather sure you’ve cornered the market on fiddling down here.” He crossed his arms on his barrel chest and offered a raised eyebrow – at some point since takeoff, he’d decided to go helmetless. Probably before coming down here, so the two of them could appreciate his full disdain.

Fennec turned to glare at Boba so quickly, her braid nearly smacked Din in the face. “Performing at optimal _Bobaization_ quotient, hmm?”

Boba’s mouth downturned in a frog-like frown. “We talked about using that word on this ship.”

“And yet it’s still funny, imagine that.” Fennec scraped together a thought for Mando and looked back to him, eyes assessing his chrome-plated form. Scared stiff. She giggled to herself at her own little joke.

Din, however, was pretty certain he was about to stroke out and die. Right here, fingers millimeters from being inside a woman for the first time in...a _while_. Perhaps death would in fact be best at this point.

“Calm down,” Fennec soothed sarcastically, plucking Mando’s hands and putting them safely back in his lap. “If he was going to kill you, it’d be over already.”

“Hasty presumption,” Boba murmured gruffly.

“Is that right,” Din replied dryly with a confidence he was so far from feeling, it might as well be slipping away into hyperspace behind them. He wasn’t about to be cowed, though. Why would Boba be inclined to kill him any--

“Hang on,” Din continued as he swept aside Fennec’s hand coyly tracing the top edge of his cuirass. His helmet bobbed between her and Boba. “Are you--” he began, clearly miffed.

“Nothing as formal as what you’re suggesting,” Boba answered for him. “We’ve been traveling together as people who have each previously been traveling alone for...a _long_ time. Surely you can appreciate the benefit.”

Din could, as current circumstances vividly illustrated. He relaxed a little; Fennec’s playful attitude receded and she looked, shockingly enough, almost chastened.

“I didn’t intend to bait you like that. I really did think--” Fennec paused, jaw hung open and eyes narrowed with sudden insight. She’d forgotten about _that_ little fact. Her head spun again back to regard Boba; Din followed her gaze and curious change in attitude. Only now did he really make the effort to _look_ at Boba where he stood, and he found the man...surprisingly shifty. Certainly not angry, or even particularly irritated by the prospect of someone having a clandestine quickie on his ship. Under Fennec’s omniscient, withering gaze, Boba appeared to give up with a resigned sigh and shrug at her.

“I know _you_ don’t care, but...”

“I don’t, no. But you make a point,” Fennec replied with a nod.

“ _What?_ ” Din asked, exasperated.

“There’s something he isn’t telling you,” Fennec explained. “And that I forgot.” She returned her full attention to Mando, looming over him again in the seat to the point of nudging their foreheads together. “He has video _and_ audio hookup in the cockpit.”

“It’s for countersurveillance,” Boba argued weakly.

“Until it isn’t,” Fennec shot back in a quiet sing-song.

Din took a beat to consider such a revelation. If this was true, Boba had had every opportunity to descend on them with sound and fury – and he had chosen not to. He _still_ hadn’t. Without telegraphing it, he did his best to assess Boba again, though Fennec took up most of the eyeline. Fennec had put him on the spot saying what she did; a nervous crease in his mouth was the only betrayal of any emotion whatsoever. The heavy scarring didn’t dull Boba’s strong features at all – and even if it did in other, more judgmental eyes, the rest of his stocky form was plenty alluring on its own. Din _had_ always had a weak spot for men who were broader than him. 

Intrigued, Din ran his hand experimentally up Fennec’s thigh all the way to the hip joint and gripped there with enough force to make the leather of his gloves creak – and instantly capture Boba’s attention with a laser-focused gaze.

“He wants to watch,” Din concluded, and made a point to only address Fennec. She grinned, pleased he had cottoned on so quickly.

“He _definitely_ does,” she replied as she cupped Din’s chin once more and played into the idea of ignoring Boba standing just a few feet away.

The wicked tone re-stoked Din’s confidence. If polite permission was what Boba wanted, he certainly wasn’t about to be stingy. Just the _idea_ of someone like him watching was enough to rile Din back up and then some. He tilted his head enough to draw Boba’s line of sight and held it. A soft _clack_ cut the pressurized silence as Din unlatched his left gauntlet, let it drop to the floor, and began peeling the glove off after it.

“Yeah? Good.”

The right gauntlet and glove followed in a symmetrical pile along the other side of the seat, and Boba’s eyes had gone wide as saucers for Din’s boldness as well as the stroke of simple benevolence. Most people wouldn’t be so pliant; Din wasn’t most people. And, he reminded himself now he wasn’t halfway to terrified, it’d been...a cycle or two since he’d last had anybody under his hands. He’d welcome just about anything, and this was much better than that admittedly low bar. Hopefully Boba didn’t have a bashful streak, because Din wanted a two-way street out of this bit of public theater.

Fennec watched Mando’s cocksure little show with delighted hunger. _Where_ had this normally-muted, chrome-coated man found that much sexual gravitas? Excellent. She leant back a bit, one hand holding his neck with the thumb pointedly nudging under the hem of his cowl to brush his Adam’s apple. She followed his gaze and assessed the staring match between him and Boba with a knowing smile. “You did say _people_ before, didn’t you? Sit, Boba.”

“Hmph. Not your dog.” But Boba _did_ sit in one of the other chairs, behind and a little offset from Din and Fennec. Din wondered if that angle was intentional since it was Fennec’s blind spot.

“Interesting rebuff, since I recall having made you beg before,” Fennec replied flatly.

Oh yeah, it was _definitely_ intentional. The banter was clearly nothing more serious than acerbic fun between them, but Boba wanted to be sure Fennec had as little opportunity as possible to indulge in more – that would distract her from what he was _really_ looking for. On top of that, Boba hadn’t broken gaze with Din, even to cross the floor and claim his seat. It occurred to him that Boba was probably plenty familiar with seeing Fennec come...and didn’t _need_ to watch her quite as closely. His gut dropped. Okay. _Okay._

If Din thought about any of that much more, he was going to lose his nerve – luckily enough, Fennec had made her move, now that all the pleasantries were over. She might be polite enough to not insist on removing the helmet, but she was finding all kinds of ways to cheat or otherwise flaunt an unspoken rule by teasing his neck...and the effect was potent. His skin rarely saw _daylight_ ; touch was even rarer.Headiness swept over him again, drawing a lazy, low sound out of him.

Now that his hands were bare, he busied himself with pulling away the sash on Fennec’s waist he’d so conveniently seen removed earlier, revealing skin that abruptly ended to reveal internal cybernetics. Not that Din really cared that much either way – it was just part of a whole. As he let it slip to the floor and made to follow with her kama, however, he happened to look up and saw, for the briefest moment, a tiny uncertain crease in her mouth. Self-consciousness. He almost didn’t believe his own eyes – surely not _this_ woman, who had just alluded to making a man beg like a dog?

The moment’s fleeting emotion passed and Fennec’s characteristic swagger returned. Din wasn’t so stupid as to make mention of what he’d seen, but as the kama fell aside, too, he made the bold choice to grip her hard by the hips and chased it with tracing the very edge of the skin before it gave way to metal and cable with both thumbs. She bent over him and gave a long sigh unimpeded by pride or edifice. Beneath his fingers, he could feel pinprick goosebumps that rose in response.

Fennec loathed the hesitance that still flitted through her because of the... _modifications,_ to use Boba’s term. She should be nothing but grateful for the chance to live and try again – as Boba frequently tried to remind her as gently as he could – but she had also been fairly vain for most of her life. It wasn’t what it had been, and that was enough to trouble her. Anyone suicidal enough to _comment_ on the change would of course die, but...it would still sting. Shame she couldn’t quite figure out how to kill _that._

When Mando’s conscientious touch oh-so-delicately singed her nerves, however, that feeling was abruptly erased: first, by the simple (but potent) physiological reaction, and second by... _sentimentality_. Hell would have to take her for good before she would ever admit it out loud, but there it was. It wasn’t the first time this had happened – Boba had done the same before. She vividly recalled the feeling paired with his gravelly voice patiently explaining how synthetic skin was at its most tender along such boundaries, since that was where the neural lacing was at its highest density. He’d gone on to blather further about the mechanics underneath, probably to encourage her body image or some other romantic shit, but she couldn’t remember the rest after he’d finally started fucking her.

All that aside, Boba _had_ won her over with that tactic, which had led to their little arrangement. She felt that appreciation again now...from a man whose name and _face_ she didn’t even know. Was she turning into a mark for halfway-decent men? She wasn’t ready to be _that_ goody-two-shoes. _Whatever_ , she told herself and whipped off her gloves, followed by her cropped leather jerkin. She’d philosophize over that after she’d come.

Din hadn’t anticipated the effect would be so profound. Fennec’s gloves seemed to fly off her hands even before her spine eased out of its arch or the last shiver receded from her thighs. The only downside to the sudden frenetic burst was the fact he’d have to maintain a hotter momentum than he’d anticipated. There was nothing for it but to put his own creeping need on the back burner and focus on Fennec. He didn’t drop a beat and while Fennec was distracted removing her weird vest-thing, he wedged his hand into her pants and pressed two fingers hard against her clit.

“Fingers?” Fennec scoffed. “What are you, a tee--” She cut off in a long, raspy gasp from his heavy-handed approach and shoved Din hard enough into his seat that his helmet _tinged_ against the steel beam that anchored it. Just out of sight, they both heard a low rattle, like steel wool and credits being shaken in a can – Boba, laughing quietly. Probably _at_ Din for what he’d gotten himself into. Fennec _was_ a handful, yeah, but Din was nowhere near deterred and _she_ was getting wetter by the second.

"I _might_ know what I’m doing,” Din shot back dryly. Since Fennec was bracing herself well enough against the headrest and Din’s body, he felt free to have another, harder grope at her breast, finishing with a pinch and roll of the nipple through her shirt hard enough to make her jump. He leant in, touching her forehead with the brow of his visor. “And I know how to pick the ones that like it mean.”

In one tremendous, forceful sweep, Fennec pulled her whole long-sleeved top off and whipped it onto the floor. As she ground into Mando’s fingers, however, she realized her second-nature oversight and let out a sound somewhere between a laden sigh and a frustrated growl. “That _fucking_ helmet. Waste of a mouth,” she spat.

“I promise I’m looking with plenty of appreciation,” Din blurted before he could think twice, earning a hearty bark of laughter from Boba.

“Go to hell,” Fennec said, but the ghost of a smile warmed over her slack, panting jaw.

She shifted a bit in place, and Din took the opportunity to pull her in with his free arm and slide his ring and middle fingers inside her with the other. “Right after I watch you come,” he hissed. Fennec gripped the back of his helmet for leverage as she briefly fell slack against him from a rush hot enough to make her toes curl in her boots.

“ _Now_ you’re fun,” she breathed and rocked back into his hand. Her head dipped again to press against the side of Din’s helmet where his ear would be. “Is he touching himself yet?” she asked quietly.

Din surreptitiously peeked around her head to look at Boba. He wasn’t moving, but he was nowhere near relaxed or casual; his arms were crossed tight enough across his chest it rumpled the usually even and curving folds of his robe. He was obviously fighting off impulse. When Din answered her question with a quiet _mm-mm_ in the negative, Fennec winked and grinned. “Is that right.” She reached down to grasp Din’s wrist and twisted it minutely as guidance; when he followed it with a deep, firm press, Fennec let out a gut-driven cry and bucked. Off to the side, they both could hear a long, ragged sigh.

“Mm, don’t be shy, it doesn’t suit you,” Fennec spoke through a long, pleased sigh, though she was far too consumed to bother actually looking back at Boba to properly address him. She shoved Din in his seat, seemingly all business but for a slit of a smirk on her face. “And you. Give me three already.”

Din’s vision briefly grew hazy for the ensuing surge of blood departing the upper half of his body, but he managed to oblige by pulling his sodden hand free enough to add his index finger to his attention. Fennec’s responding, luscious groan left Din feeling grateful for the helmet, so no one could see the dark flush he could feel as sudden, potent heat within its privacy.

“We’ll get to you, so don’t come in that jumpsuit before I say,” she added as imperiously as she could manage between wanton, panting breaths. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Din replied, cheeky.

“Listen to _you_.”

A hitched, gruff noise caught their attention. Din hardly needed to look to know what it meant, but he eagerly peeked over Fennec’s shoulder for the chance to get a look at--

“ _Damn._ ”

Fennec laughed, low and breathy. “Yeah.”

Boba’s scars twisted in form with a knowing smile. Per Fennec’s suggestion to abandon modesty, he’d shed both belts and pulled his dick – notably thick, prompting Din’s marveling commentary – out from his loose, pleated pants to stroke as he watched Din and Fennec. The distraction Din felt in simply staring at Boba’s blunt fingers teasing the head was rapidly surpassed upon meeting the man’s eyes: dark, fiery, and wide open with hunger.

Meanwhile, Fennec couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Sympathize though she might with Mando’s piqued need for Boba’s fat cock (and she did, trust), she would insist on remaining the priority. A glance down revealed the handle of a knife jutting from Mando’s boot, and inspiration struck.

“Out,” she barked.

“Wh-what?” Din bleated, started from his brief reverie.

“Hands. Out.”

He acquiesced more as an automatic movement than a conscious act; his spike of worry he’d done something wrong or painful eased to see Fennec was still smiling. His fingers had barely cleared her waistband before she lunged forward, snatched his beskar blade from its boot holster, and used it quick as a flash to slit the hem of her own pants. Just as quickly, she put the blade between her teeth and pulled the new cut open further with a satisfying _rip._

“Better,” Fennec said when Mando’s T-shaped gaze reoriented back to her. She slammed the knife back where she’d found it with a speed and casualness as if it was her own weapon and turned her hands to wrenching at the fly on his flightsuit. “I’m getting more than fingers out of you, and I’m not wasting any more time.”

Din, who had backed himself into the chair every millimeter he could watching his own knife flit through the air a _little_ too close to his dick for his comfort, needed a moment to process. Alarm almost instantly transmuted into a deep, wild kind of need he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was no stranger to a bit of rough, casual sex, but this was different – simply getting off had taken a backseat to wanting something, _someone_ discrete. He wanted _Fennec,_ and _now._ “Yes ma’am,” he repeated, but with none of the earlier, teasing banter in his voice.

The moment Fennec pulled Mando’s cock free, she barely needed to put in the effort to raise herself up to take him; he leveraged his arms up under her thighs to lift and pull her on. Taking him to the hilt so fast was _almost_ too much despite all the warmup, and Fennec drove the heel of her hand into the steel beam securing the seat for the mingled relief, tension, and searing unctuous arousal that took flight from her gut and disappeared into the open air as a bleated keen.

Sliding inside Fennec wasn’t enough for Din. He switched up his grip once she was settled, one hand tight at the base of her skull, putting them forehead to forehead. He wedged the other hand under the ruined fabric of her pants and up her thigh, taking on as much weight as he could to tip her into him just that little bit more as she rode him. A thick ripping noise announced the further ruination of Fennec’s pants as she adjusted. For all intents and purposes she was naked, now, but for the stubborn effort of her boots keeping the fabric half on her legs. Using all his core strength, he hitched her body up to keep her stable in his arms – the subsequent shift and thrust inside hit just right and Fennec went limp against him briefly, mewling.

“Fuck. _Fuck,_ ” she spat as she tried to recover. Lucky Mando, the bastard, who got to keep all _his_ clothes on, because she put fingernails into her curling grip on him that definitely should have left their mark as she rose and fell on his cock.

Fennec’s bout of bonelessness had given Din a perfect view of Boba across the platform. He was rapt in watching, but taking a slow, casual tack in jacking himself off. The grip was loose, clearly intended for patient enjoyment. That wouldn’t do – If Din was going to have-slash-demand his druthers, he was going to have the kind of ferocity he’d seen put a Gaffi staff through a Stormtrooper’s head. Fennec rolled her hips, making Din’s eyes roll back unseen; he bucked back hard to earn a sharp gasp and shudder from her. Boba started as if abruptly awoken and fixed that laser gaze with Din’s exactly as he’d wanted.

“Her pussy’s tighter than that, Fett,” Din hissed.

The effect was immediate: Boba’s jaw dropped open in a clipped groan, now fisting his dick in an iron grip and each swipe cycling faster than before. Just the brief glance between them was electric, joining with the steady boil from Fennec in a potent enough combination to make Din cast his head back with a dull, metallic thud against the headrest.

Fennec, still rocking atop Mando with increasing ferocity and decreasing control, had naturally heard his bit of salacious banter and expressed her appreciation with a tight squeeze, thighs to cunt to abs, hard as she could around his cock while sitting upright. A responding bite of his fingernails and a muffled cry described not only her success, but how little restraint either of them had left. Need and reluctance to end warred at once in her – she wasn’t sure she’d ever get to ride dick quite like this ever again.

Din could tell that Fennec was close to her limit – and seemingly struggling to finish, too. She had wound her arm completely around the back of Din’s neck, hand plastered against the back of his helmet. Each roll of her hips had grown harder and longer, searching for the last, overwhelming blow that would make her come, but her furrowed brow suggested trouble. Din himself was so close he could barely concentrate; at the last possible moment, he realized his left hand was free since Fennec was essentially hanging on by his neck and inspiration struck. As before, he traced his thumb along the border of her synthetic skin, but with firmer pressure and as slow and concentrated a pass as he could manage with everything else going on in his lap.

Fennec let out a wail that dipped low in pitch before sailing up and breaking off in what she would normally consider an embarrassingly-girlish squeal. She buried her face in Mando’s cowl-wrapped neck and held him in a near stranglehold with both arms, her hips canting of their own accord as he came hot and hard right along with her. Exhaustion and weakness took her so quickly, she nearly lost balance. Mando held her fast; the sensation of his patient, surprisingly soft hands up her back put a last sentimental thrill down her spine – and she’d take that secret acknowledgment to the grave. A decent man and a filthy fuck; what a pleasant rarity she’d stumbled upon, and twice over at that—

Oh, right. Boba.

By the time any blood at all had returned to Din’s brain and let him think straight again, the first thing he heard over his and Fennec’s slowing breaths was a ragged, guttural sound. His eyes refocused just soon enough to fully absorb the scene of Boba coming after them. His stubby, fat cock sputtered come from underneath his twitching fingers and onto the steel flooring. In the privacy of his silent afterglow, Din mourned the waste. Despite his own orgasm and resultant exhaustion, neither had quite eliminated the whole-body craving Din had to have Boba whenever and wherever he could. Fennec wavered again on his lap as she tried to pull herself up and off, drawing his attention once more. She was a ravaged mess of tattered linen, but she held her head high and smugly even as Din had to put in effort to keep her in place.

“You,” she said, poking his chestplate with a clumsily-aimed finger, “can do that again anytime you want.” Her arms moved sluggishly from the afterglow, but she gathered up the two corners of fabric that used to be her pants, tied them in a knot around her waist, and stood on watery knees. She bent to grab the rest of her clothes from the floor before turning to assess Boba. Try as he might to seem aloof, there was no winning that battle of attrition when Fennec stood tall over him, utterly uncaring she was topless, and Boba was half-melted into his chair with come still on his fingers. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. I’ll try not to monopolize next time.” She strode off and up the ladder to go find a spare set of clothes.

Din tucked himself back in his flightsuit, but that didn’t bring a sense of dignity in the wake of Fennec’s blazing confidence. He may have gotten off and thoroughly enjoyed it, but there was absolutely no question as to who had fucked who. Distraction: found, and in one hell of a way. Boba gave up all pretense too and shook his head ruefully at himself as he straightened up best he could.

“She’s always like that, huh,” Din said.

“Oh yes,” Boba replied with quiet amusement, though he didn’t fully look at Din as he spoke. “Small price to pay, though."

It wasn’t exactly awkward between them in the sudden quiet, but Din could feel a tension between them evenly split between interest and reticence. Boba didn’t seem to know how to meet Din on his own terms – odd, since Fennec had made teasing reference to Din’s sexuality earlier and he should feel no real hesitance. Maybe it’d gone over his head. Maybe post-sex rationality had gotten the better of him. Din couldn’t imagine the man was, in fact, _shy_ as Fennec had jabbed earlier.

Or maybe he just needed an obvious green light.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Din said as he stood and stretched out the aches from overwork and odd posture. “and be sure to save some for you.”

The remote tension in Boba’s expression smoothed away to be replaced with a coy smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> background lore on Bobaization: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Deal-slang#B


End file.
